


Redemption for the Wicked

by oceandesertworld



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandesertworld/pseuds/oceandesertworld
Summary: Kanada Kane has always been the spitting image of her mother, and it sickens Marcus Kane to the very core. That girl's untameable heart and white hot fury that pours from her eyes and through the cracks between her fingers tell the story of an inattentive father, and the rise of a powerful woman born from her own ashes. When Marcus comes to the stunning realization that he may not be in control of her anymore, it's too late — she's done something that will surely get her floated once she's of age despite the trial she's promised, and he can't bear to lose her like he did her mother. It's all or nothing, and Kanada Kane is being sent to the ground, to the relief of her father. After 97 years of being trapped inside the Ark, humanity is finally coming home — but not if arrogant Bellamy Blake can help it. While holding similar beliefs about how the Sky delinquents should be led, Kanada and Bellamy have very different opinions on who should hold the title of 'boss'. Kanada swears to her grave that she won't let such an arrogant prick lead them, and she is determined to make a point — no man, no matter how influential or intimidating, will crush Kanada Kane. She will rise from the rubble and swallow them whole.





	1. Snitches Get Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locked in the Skybox for attempted murder, Kanada Kane has been ready for death since the event occurred. The Council has other plans. Her father has other plans. As she's forced into a ship that's being sent to Earth, Kanada has to learn to adjust to the planet as well as the conflicts it holds in play for her, including a furious tension between her and a feigned guard. They will stop at nothing to crush the other out of power. 
> 
> \- Based on Episode 1 of the 100.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Please enjoy my story, and comment your opinions! If you have any questions about my lead character or where I'm heading with the series, just comment below. I don't have any current scheduling for the chapters, but just let me know if you want more. Anyway, enjoy yourself, and I hope you like Redemption for the Wicked!

 But somewhere in between the constant machine buzzing and the booming voices of men who cannot begin to understand the world, between the thin oxygen pulling at our lungs and the cries of women castaway in our societal systems, behind the beaten, groping hands grasping at the remains of humanity, there is a reality tucked away in that empty space, cold, alone, and never full. It is begging to be filled up, like a rising tension. And nothing, not shame, not murder, not religion, not blood, not the bullet of a soldier, not the begging of the oppressed and criminal or the last breath of a dying child, can ever, ever fill it. Somewhere in between, underneath all that white noise, there's a lack.  
  
 They call it the Skybox, but Kanada simply considers the juvenile offense area to be the place where they throw minors until they're eighteen — the Council says it's there for the Councilmen to ponder over the crimes of the accused until the ripe time to judge them, but everyone knows it's simply a pleasantry to the family so they aren't aware their kids are doomed regardless. Just throw them in the Room and get it over with — no need to cause their parents anymore suffering than they already have knowing their child is a complete and utter fuck up. Everything is made a certain way for a reason — the reality of it is that the Laws of the Ark are designed to be broken, just like the Skybox is designed to be filled up and emptied out regularly. 9/10 of those eighteen-year-olds are proven still guilty. As if turning eighteen would make them less guilty than they were before — be it seven years or three weeks. Truth is, the last 1/10 of them are set free so the civilians of the Stations don't get suspicious of the Council's behavior and take action against them. The Skybox was essentially a flytrap filled to the very brim with healthy growing maggots. No matter how much time, how much rehabilitation, these kids took to change and become better people, they were still going to end up like flies. The Ark was just a gluttonous dionaea muscipula.

 

 Kanada Kane shifts against the concrete wall, her eyes screwed shut and her hands knotted into balls. Her impatience was successfully nulled over her time in the Skybox, but still reached a high peak every couple of days. It was currently September 13th, 2149, and Kanada's irritability had understandably skyrocketed since the 3rd of this month, her eighteenth birthday. She should have been stuck with a giant needle ten days ago, and she wanted nothing more but to do it herself at this point. Maybe they knew this was torturing her — maybe death wasn't her punishment, but rather being forced to wonder when the day might come that they grow bored of keeping her alive and suffocate her while she's sleeping. Joke's on them, though; she hasn't slept in over 48 hours. Good luck catching her when she's not paying attention.

 

  It made her question her father's morals, however; sure, he _hated_ her because of her resemblance to her mother, but it couldn't have possibly been enough to torture or suffocate her. How could she help what face she grew into? In fact, her mother was probably _so_ proud of her for making Marcus suffer that much. Amara was a lovely and compassionate, yet stubborn, woman who loved her daughter and husband with every fiber of her being. Despite that, she knew how Marcus could be and acknowledged it like she acknowledged her daughter's interest in art and the earth, and she kept it with her like a good omen. Amara Kane was good-natured, honest, and quick-witted, and did not allow Marcus to grow arrogant or proud. “Live alongside humility and integrity,” she would warn him when his pride swelled, “and you will make the right decisions.” Kanada now realized how ironic it was for her to say that considering the circumstances of her mother's death, and her father's involvement. So much for integrity.

 

 The young woman unclenches her fists, glancing up at the sound of shuffling boots across the thin hallways of the Skybox. There seems to be a ruckus out there, but Kanada's position on the floor prevents her from getting a better look. Standing up and brushing off tiny specks of cement from her black leggings, she slowly makes her way to the air-locked prison door. There isn't much to see from her small window, but switching positions a bit made it easier to catch a peek of all the commotion. Prisoners are making a fuss out of nothing, from what she could tell. It is probably the petty druggies, anyway. Not that Kanada could complain about them — her best friends were both locked up for that particular thing. It's a shame she wasn't locked up at the same time as them. Their cells were fortunately on the same block, at least.

 

 Deciding that she had no more interest in what was going on outside the cell, she turns to head for her bed. She needs a nap — even though her only options were really to sleep, sketch, or catch up on a bit of reading. Sometimes her father would send someone with new books, and she could send in requests for different ones they had, but she had assaulted the last guy and gave him a nasty black eye. That was about three months ago, and he hadn't sent one since, so she assumed she passed on the right message. It didn't matter much to her that in doing so, she almost guaranteed herself a life behind bars and then immediate death. Any crime on the Ark was punishable by death, so she might as well make the most of it.

 

 Once the back of her thighs hit the rail on her uncomfortable metal bed, the air-tight door swings open and the light flicks on above her. Two guards saunter in, one that was heavy-set and stocky with a dramatic drape of black hair pulled back loosely into a ponytail and the other was thin and lanky with a sandy spike of hair poking above his forehead. The second one was obviously new, but Kanada immediately recognizes the first one. He was part of the last Native American family on the Ark, and he was honestly too good to be an Ark guard. Even with the solemn expression on his tan face, he seemed happy to see Kanada.

 

 “Oh, thank God,” The girl sighs, relieved. “I've been waiting for you guys to come and stick a needle in my arm for decades. It's a shame that you're here, though, Ollie. Never thought I'd die at the hands of the happiest chap on the Ark.”

 

 Oliver chuckles gently, an obvious nerve in his tone. “Not today, friend, I'm afraid. Maybe one day.”

 

 Kanada's eyebrows knit together, her lips turning down into a frown. Normally, he would be pretty depressed about the death of someone he knew, to the point of _tears_ depressed. Yet, his dark eyes were folded into joyful crescents. The hesitant expression on his face told her there was more to it than just her survival.

 

“What's that supposed to mean—?” She begins, confused.

 

 The slim guard shifts on his feet, irritated. “Prisoner 276, face the wall. Now.”

 

 “Bite me,” Kanada snaps back, deeply shaken by Oliver's words. As she attempts to sift through the possible meanings, the unknown guard jolts forward and clasps her left arm, yanking her around. Before she could start a fight, Oliver gently holds her other arm, almost like a truce — a promise that he wouldn't let the other one hurt her.

 

 “Chill the fuck out, Will,” the tall, decently stocky boy calmly soothes. He gently smiles at the bewildered teenage girl, and her muscles slack. She knows he wouldn't do anything to cause her harm, and vice versa.

 

 In any other situation, Kanada would have already bitten the guards at least twice, but her history with Oliver guaranteed her safety. Growing up on the Ark meant not much discrimination in terms of race or language, but weight was definitely still a sensitive spot for privileged Alpha Station kids. While Kanada never suffered with it, Oliver was often the butt of a joke about 'why there were rations’. He wasn't a kid who ate a whole lot, either. He just had a slow metabolism, and Kanada Kane wasn't going to let a bunch of hateful school kids try to make him feel worthless for it. She was a tall, skinny child growing up, and was taller than Oliver at the time, so it was easier to defend him. It didn't exactly hurt that her father was practically Big Daddy™ on campus, but no one publicly informed her that she wasn't the reason everyone was terrified of her. She didn't need to know that. All that was important was that tiny thirteen-year-old Kanada Kane was willing to get into a physical altercation with a boy who was three years her senior to protect a friend who was two years older than her. Oliver had admired her since, even after he had grown thirteen inches and doubled his weight in pure muscle. She will never forget the day he told her he wanted to join the guard so he could essentially pay her back for all she did when they were kids.

 

 “Yeah, yeah, just put the bracelet on her,” The guard named Will barks, slightly loosening his grip. Kanada shoots him a dirty look, but it wasn't as intimidating as usual, as it was filled with confusion.

 

 “What is this? A new way to kill us?” She interrogates, turning her attention to Oliver. He was _way_ too chipper for this to be a murder.

 

 “No,” he quips, releasing her wrist once he snapped the metal bracelet on. He slowly makes his way in front of her, a small smile forming on his plump lips. “Kandy, you're going to go to—”

 

 “—Hey, I just got paged. We took too fucking long. We gotta go, like now,” the blond tells Oliver.

 

 “Can you, like, shut the fuck up for two minutes?” Kanada seethes, yanking her head around. Will grips her arm roughly, escorting her to the hallway outside the cell. It was the last straw for her. Ripping her bicep from his hands, she brought it back up to his face, slamming it into his nose. She twists around properly, and kicks him straight in the abdomen. “That's for fucking interrupting me.”

 

When he starts to lunge for her neck with a tranquilizer, Kanada throws herself back and smacks roughly against Oliver's chest. Before she could let anything slip past her mouth, a numbing sensation erupts from the side of her throat as a small needle embeds into her skin.

 

 By the time it reaches her toes, she is slanted in Oliver's lap, his grip still holding the handle of the tranquilizer. His other hand runs down her raven hair, trying to lull her into the sleep. Her eyes were beginning to droop, but she fights against herself to stay awake.

 

 “Just let it happen, okay?” Oliver coos, “You're gonna be alright. In peace may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground.”

 

 Kanada shakily reaches for his hand in her hair, and she weakly grasps it in hers. She was quickly falling out of consciousness.

 

 In unison, they promise, “May we meet again.”

 

* * *

 

 

   _Running._ Her legs can't carry her as fast as she needs them to. They are sinking into the mud, swallowing all of her body. _No._ Her thoughts echo across the entire forest. She had only seen forests in books; how the _hell_ is she in one? Something grasps her arm, slimy and pointed. Glancing up, she screams, but no sound leaves her throat. Kanada is yanked from the mud by the creature, as it stood much taller than her. Maybe by seven feet or so, she couldn't tell. Before it could devour her, she kicks out and jolts awake.

 

 A guy sitting beside her curses under his breath, his pale face contorting into one of anger and irritation. However, Kanada was still a bit loopy, and it freaks  her the hell out when he reaches out to point his finger at her and say something nasty.

 

 “You fucking crushed my foot—” CRACK. Kanada elbows him in the nose, violently thrashing when she realizes she is locked in by a seatbelt. The boy groans, his hands flying up to his nose. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

 

Kanada ignores him, her eyes dancing around the Dropship. Once her heart rate slows down and she takes a moment to take in her surroundings, she sighs. There was no need to do anything brash. She spots a blonde head a few seats away, and she recognizes who it was almost immediately.

 

 “Clarke, where the hell are we? Where the hell are we _going?”_ She questions once the seventeen-year-old whips her head around to the sound of her name.

 

 “They didn't tell you?” Clarke asks, her brows furrowing. “We're going to Earth.”

 

 “ _What?”_ The noirette gapes, but she is clearly still hesitant to believe her. “What are you _on?”_

 

 Clarke laughs softly for a moment, but it is abruptly stopped when the ship lurches forward and the lights flicker. Moments later, the Chancellor of the Ark appears on a small black television screen attached to the metal walls.

 

“The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years,” Jaha drones on.

 

 Kanada begins unbuckling her seat to join Finn and the two other boys. She struggles a bit with the strap, but it finally releases and she is floating through the air. It is certainly a strange feeling. She somersaults to the other side of the Dropship, smile wide on her face. This is the most free-reign enjoyment she's got to experience since she, Monty, and Jasper got high last year on some random herbs.

 

“What the hell are you doing? Get back in your seats!” Clarke barks, desperate for everyone to listen. Desperate for _Kanada_ to listen.

 

 Monty and Jasper recognize the teenage rebel when she passes them, their smiles growing a bit. Despite Monty's fear for her safety, he couldn't help but grin at the sight of her having a blast. It almost makes him want to unbuckle, but he knows better.

 

 As she soars across the Dropship, she finds herself sinking down the opening to the first level. There's also a television down here, and she focuses her attention on a strongly built boy in a guard's uniform strapped in closest to the door. His eyes are glazed over, an unforgettable fear like he's just seen a ghost while he stares unblinking at the television. At Chancellor Jaha.

 

 “Hell, yes!” A boy shouts when he spots her, desperately trying to unbuckle his seat as well. A redhead, presumably a girlfriend or someone close to him, shoots her arm out in front of him, blocking him from leaving his seat. The venom in her expression as she glares at him is admirable.

 

 “It'll be fun, c'mon,” Kanada insists, and the boy is practically digging his way through the straps now.

 

 “Atom!” The girl aggressively whispers when he finally sets himself free. He lazily shrugs and spins his way towards Kanada, elated to be free of the Ark's clutches. Just before she can pull Atom towards the upper levels, her eyes glance over the guard again. His face is now hard, unchanging. It's frightening.

 

 A strange bubbling sickness forms in Kanada's stomach as the image of the guard boy watching the television unmoving flashes through her brain. Wanting to go back up to join Finn, she pulls herself up to the second floor by the ladder and floats herself upward, Atom hot on her heels.

 

 “How's it going, sweetheart? Long time no see,” Finn quips when they cross paths. He has a flirtatious smirk on his boyish features, and she can't help but grin at him also.

 

 “Hope you didn't miss me too much.”

 

“I barely survived.”

  

 Suddenly, the lights flicker again and the ship moans and shifts. There is an abrupt crash, and Kanada flies into the metal wall opposite of Monty, and all air was shoots out of her lungs from the impact. It became hard to breathe, her back aching and her vision fuzzy. When the boy she assumes was Finn arched over her, his brows furrowed,  she lightly taps him on the face with her hand.

 

 “I'm still alive, sucker,” she whispers, her voice cracked and uneasy. Finn lets out a breathy laugh, and he slowly helps her up, handing her off to Jasper when the tall lanky boy approaches quickly. Finn rushes off to check on Atom and the other delinquent. Thankfully, Atom only sustained minor injuries. 

 

  Monty unbuckles and stumbles towards the two of them, elated to see Kanada. His eyes are cautious, almost like a silent promise to discuss some things later when they're alone.

 

 The next few seconds are a blur. Delinquents are pushing through to get to the lower level, where a conversation between the guard guy who thought he was the shit and a snappy girl is being held and debated. By the time Jasper helped Kanada down the ladder, the snappy girl had already tried to blow off some other chick's head for saying something stupid. She is gonna like her, Kanada thinks.

 

 The shock of the crash earlier finally wears off. She is a bit sore, but she is alive, and that was enough for her. She didn't shy away from Jasper, though. It had been almost two years since she had proper human contact, and she was going to lose her mind now that there was just _so much_ of it. This entire experience is sending her in for a whirlwind, and everything goes by so fast that she doesn't have much time to process it.

 

  Everyone in the Dropship had bated breath when they eye the girl named Octavia as she approaches the end of the dropped door. Once her foot hit the dirt, the delinquents rush out at rapid speeds. Kanada stays behind, much like Clarke, who exits after a few seconds. Kanada slowly reaches the end of the door, but doesn't leave. She squats down, her arms wrapping around her knees. She isn't going to touch the ground just yet.  

 

 “What are you doing? Let's go,” Jasper questions her, crouching down on his feet.

 

 Kanada cranes up to look at him, trying to find the right words. She leans her head against his thigh. “I want to take it in for a moment.”

 

 Her eyes dart across the forest as they adjust to the beating rays of the sun. It feels different than it did while she was on the Ark. While on the ship, it was more artificial, less… Earthy? The plethora of colors throws her off, too. The unbelievable amounts of green and brown and blue is overwhelming. Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply. The fresh scent of pine and soil fills her nostrils, and she can practically smell the water in the oxygen. There is a crisp freshness to the air that is not reflected on the Ark. Kanada wants nothing more but to experience the Earth to the best of her ability.

 

 Untying her boot laces, she slips off the dark cocoa boots and hands them off to Jasper, who drops them behind them. His eyebrows quirk at her, almost as if he's trying to figure her out. Soon, he begins to untie his shoes, too. By the time they were completely barefoot, people were bustling around, and Monty had run over to them.

 

 “I should've stayed with you guys,” he decides slowly. “I would've touched the dirt with my feet first, too.”

 

 “Hey, there's still time. Get up here, Wasabi,” Kanada remarks, pulling Monty by the arm onto the door. She has a nickname for Monty since he is Asian, but so is she, so they don't really consider it to be 'offensive’. Monty calls her 'Sushi’, so it is a mutual thing.

 

 Monty grins, and drops beside her to begin unlacing his brown boots. They all stand once they have no shoes or socks, and join hands, Kanada in the middle. Monty and Jasper share a look that isn't caught by Kanada, one of content and appreciation. It was also pure mischief. Almost like an agreement, they both quickly hook their arms underneath the girl's legs, and she lets out a small scream of shock. The two boys gently step onto the dirt, and almost share a happy moan once the soft soil mixes between their toes.

 

 “Hey! Put me down before I do something brash,” Kanada warns, signaling for the door. They both laugh at her, and do as they were told. They don't want to die quite yet. Monty and Jasper step back, further from the door, grinning at her expectantly. The raven-haired girl glances down at the soil, and pokes it with her toe, quickly pulling back. It was an unusual sensation. Finally, she hops down from the door, her eyes screwing shut into happy crescents. “ _Oh my God._ ”

 

 A giggle pouring from Kanada's throat, she runs towards her best friends, pulling them down to hug her. She doesn't stay put, though; Kanada clings to them while she dances in the dirt, and they quickly follow, spinning in joyful circles and cheering. She hasn't caught the other delinquents eyeing them oddly, and glancing down at their own feet. Criminals begin ripping off their shoes as quickly as possible, and form a group around Kanada, Monty, and Jasper, until a giant group of teenagers are hopping around and dancing. Not that anyone could call it that, though. It looks more like a heap of bodies twirling and shifting spots.

 

 Even Clarke's attention is caught by the phenomenon, and Finn pulls her over to join them. Kanada spots a reluctant Clarke in the crowd, and pulls her towards the center.

 

 “Welcome to Earth, baby!” Kanada shouts to Clarke, and she pulls Jasper down to kiss him on the cheek, but with all the movement, she grazes his lips. She notices, but doesn't mind, and grabs Monty too, this time landing a soft one on his cheek. Jasper is dumbstruck, but laughing nervously, his eyes blown wide. This is _way_ too much fun for being a criminal.

 

  Everyone dies down, slipping their boots and such back on once they were out of energy. Clarke is a little pissy because they had less time for a game plan before dark, but she couldn't complain much considering how much of a blast she had.

 

 Kanada never puts her boots back on, but rather enjoys the dirt underneath her feet. She didn't stray far from the front of the Dropship, and notices Clarke studying a map on the top of the ship door while walking alongside Jasper, discussing how lonely it had been since they were arrested.

 

“Ah, cool, a map **.** They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer,” Jasper laughs, and his brunette friend smiles softly beside him.

 

 “You mind?” Wells snaps, shoving Jasper a bit. Kanada's eyes immediately land on him, and they narrow as she steps forward. Wells takes a couple steps back.

 

 “You got a problem, Chancellor?” She interrogates,  getting ready to fight for Jasper.

 

 “Hey, hey, hey, hands off him. They’re with us,” a boy named John Murphy says. His eyes flit to Kanada, knowing full well who she is, but he admires her hatred towards the Ark's political systems, so he isn't going to bunch her up with people like Clarke and Wells. He nods encouragingly towards her, and she shoots him a curt nod as well, stepping back.

 

 “Relax. We're just trying to figure out where we are,” The chancellor's son states, clearly intimidated by the group closing in on him.

 

 “Before or after you put your hands on Jasper for talking to Clarke?” Kanada questions, her fists tightening. Clarke puts her hand out towards her, basically telling her it wasn't worth it. She is getting _tired_ of people telling her what is worth a fight and what isn't.

 

 Wells opens his mouth to speak, but two more people approach. One is much older than the rest, Kanada notices, and it makes her eyes narrow. There was no way in hell he is younger than eighteen, and the other girl resembles him. They must have been the two people on the Dropship earlier who were speaking before the door opened. Kanada examines the girl a bit closer. _Holy shit!_ That's Octavia Blake. She is the chick who was arrested for living under the floors for sixteen years — which meant the older one has to be Bellamy Blake, her brother.

 

 “We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?” Bellamy focuses his attention on Wells.

 

 “Aren't you a janitor?” Kanada blurts out. She remembers seeing him a very long time ago, but it always stuck with her she had thought at the time that he had the build to be a guard, not a cleaning assistant. It was funny to see him now in the guard uniform, like how she imagined he'd be.

 

 There is an awkward silence after it left her lips, and she and Jasper can barely keep their laughs in. Curse her unfiltered tongue. Even Clarke smiles slightly, but it quickly washes away.

 

  “You got a problem with that, firecracker?” Bellamy seethes. She clearly hit a sensitive spot, and it made her happy.

 

“Oh, not at all. I just find it a bit funny that for someone whose job is to clean the bottom of my boot, you've got a bit of a God complex.”

 

 There is an eruption of hoots and hollers from the crowd that gathered, and a few people go out of their way to pat her on the back.

 

 “Shut your mouth. What, you think you're in charge here, bitch? You and what army?” Octavia shouts defensively.

 

 “Watch your tongue, floorboard girl, or I'll put you back with the mice where you belong,” She spits back, squaring her shoulders.

 

 Octavia lunges at her, fire in her eyes, and the same expression is reflected in Kanada, but Bellamy holds his sister back while Jasper does the same to his best friend. Wells butts in so they wouldn't start a fight.

 

  “We _need_ to find Mount Weather,” he pleads.

 

Clarke continues. “We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now.”

 

Bellamy scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I got a better idea. You three go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the work for a change.”

 

 “That's bullshit, and you know it,” Kanada retorts, hushing the cheers of the delinquents, “you haven't done a day's work in your entire life. Just say you don't wanna come, and move on.”

 

 “Neither of you are listening! We all need to go,” Wells shouts,  causing both Bellamy and Kanada to glare at him.

 

 “Look at this, everybody… The Chancellor of Earth,” Murphy drawls.

 

 “Watch it!” Kanada barks when Murphy shoves Wells to the ground. Before she could intervene, two delinquents grasp her arms, yanking her back. “Let me go!”

 

 Normally, she would just let the fight play out, but Wells's limp catches her off guard, causing her to be protective. Kanada is one to _include_ herself in fist fights, but not if the opponent was crippled. You are one weak motherfucker if you are going to attack someone who isn't physically capable of defending themselves. Her body goes limp as the two boys circle each other, and she watches with cautious eyes. Murphy isn't _really_ going to attack Wells, is he? Before she could try to step in again, Finn hops down from the Dropship.

 

 “Kid's got one leg. How about you wait until it's a fair fight?” Finn challenges. Murphy hesitates for a moment, scanning the crowd. When he spots Kanada Kane about ready to break free and rip off his whole arm with her bare teeth, he quickly backs down and shoves through the crowd.

 

 “Hey, spacewalker, rescue me next,” Octavia flirts with Finn, who shoots her a flirtatious grin that makes Kanada want to vomit. Once the teenagers all disperse, she tears herself from the two boys, and eyes them furiously. They scamper off quickly now that big bad Bellamy isn’t around to save their asses.

 

 “How's his leg?” Kanada questions Clarke as she approaches.

 

 “It's fine. Are you going to go around barefoot the entire time? What if you cut yourself on metal?”

 

“I'll live. Although, you might want to convince Monty and Jasper to put their shoes on,” Kanada tells her while heading off towards the Dropship. “They're dumb enough to cut themselves.”

 

 “Aren't you coming with us?” Clarke calls out.

 

 “No, I might stay here and make sure Blake doesn't get too trigger-happy with that gun,” Kanada shouts back. She doesn't miss Clarke's pointed look. “Aaaand I'll watch out for Wells.”

 

 That seems to satisfy Clarke well enough, who is quickly distracted by Finn.

 

* * *

 

 

 Kanada is suddenly thankful for the books her father gave her while in prison. She read mostly about plants and what kinds are edible and which ones weren't. She is also lucky enough to have slipped her small leather sketchbook with survival notes and sketches into her coat pocket. On the Ark, she wouldn't have dreamed about being able to use the tips but it made her feel like she belonged on the ground. Like she wasn't destined for space for the rest of her life.

 

 Kanada pulls the book from her black leather coat and carefully untied the loose knot holding the book together. Inside, were notes and charcoal drawings of plants, edible berries and fruits, and how to craft a weapon out of shitty materials. Luckily enough, there were scraps from the Dropship littered along the ground. They were the only sharp objects to really watch out for when going out barefoot, but they were now useful for other stuff, like knives and bows. Picking out a few lethal looking chunks, she stuffed them in an empty backpack she found on the Ark.

 

 “Hey, give me that backpack,” A girl barks, causing her to whip around. “I need it.”

 

 “What?” Kanada questions, her tone menacing and irritated. Could she have _five_ minutes to herself? She turns to continue digging around in the soil. “Find your own. I got this one first.”

 

 “I don't care. Just give it to me. I don't have time for this,” The brunette yaps, and she jumps forward, grabbing Kanada's arm. The vice-chancellor's daughter pulls a sharp blade from the backpack, and turns quickly, pointing it at the girl's throat.

 

 “Walk away, Roma,” Kanada warns, and she takes an intimidating step forward. The brunette falters a moment, but hesitantly stands her ground. Kanada clicks her tongue, twisting the jagged metal a bit in her palm. Roma lurches forward, almost like a challenge, and it is the last straw for Kanada. Knocking the girl's feet from underneath her, she allows Roma to hit the ground, only to straddle her and keep the metal near her neck.

 

 Bellamy is maneuvering towards the log pile until he catches wind of Roma's name being spoken by a girl in a dangerous tone. His cocoa eyes dart across the camp, attempting to locate where the girl's voice is emitting from. When he hears a girlish whimper northwest of him, Bellamy hightails in that direction, turning a corner towards the back of the Dropship. Once he realizes no one was dying _yet,_ he slows his gait to a mere trot. From what he can tell, they are just fighting, so it isn’t a big deal. However, he halts at the sight of the blade as he comes closer to the scene. He notices the way the metal cuts in Kanada's palm, since she hasn't fashioned a handle for it yet.

 

 “Just let her have it, Roma. Tell you what. I'll set up a little arena, and you two can fight it off once one of you isn't about to cut your own fingers off,” Bellamy states cautiously, observing the blood that begins to stain the metal.

 

 He slips the makeshift knife from Kanada's palm, and happy with his pacifying skills, begins to head back to continue setting up camp. What he doesn't expect, however, is Kanada to sink her bloody fist right into Roma's nose when his back is turned. Roma lets out a whimpering cry, blood dripping from both nostrils as her head smacks against the dirt. Kanada's face is contorted into anger as she quickly removes herself from Roma's body, and approaches Bellamy, her shoulders squared. He takes a step back, shocked by her aggression.

 

 “Where the _fuck_ are Jasper and Monty?” She seethes, her arms crossed. Despite being seven inches taller than her, and at least double her weight, Bellamy is at a loss for words. His pompous behavior quickly returns, making an unwanted appearance. He has to be ready to expect girls as aggressive as Octavia here, perhaps more so than his sister. They are criminals, after all.

 

 “They went out with the blonde chick to go get supplies,” Bellamy deadpans, turning on his heel towards the camp. He seems a little bewildered that she, of all people, would hang out with two skinny druggies. Perhaps she is their bodyguard, or maybe she is to them what Roma is to him.

 

“ _What?_ You let those two idiots out into the woods? How _stupid_ are you?” Kanada sighs, a sense of worry and irritability building up in her stomach. She stomps past him as she readjusts the strap on her backpack. She knows she should've kept an eye on them. It would be her fault if they got hurt, and she isn't sure she could live with herself if either of them died. Especially considering she hasn't seen Monty since the day at the garden, and she has a number of questions she needs to be answered.

 

“Stupid enough to know that you should take off that wristband,” he replies lowly. When she shoots him a glare and flips him the bird, he chuckles softly. Not a happy chuckle, either. A _menacing_ one. A laugh that promises her he is going to get that wristband if he saws her arm off to do it. Bellamy eyes her retreating figure, but then everything clicks. He has seen her before, on the Ark. Perhaps a little more clean cut than now, but it has to have been about a year ago. That's Kane's daughter, the one who is famous for nearly killing a girl who snitched on her and the two druggies. Now _that_ intrigues him. He knows that Kane would be desperate and hopeful that his daughter stay alive. Bellamy almost smiles at the thought of Kane realizing his daughter's wristband is terminated.

 

  **_Eleven months ago, Ark Station:_ **

 

_Kanada sighed into Monty's shoulder, her breath calm and gentle. They were both pretty loopy after testing out this new combination the boys made, and thankfully, it wasn't a hallucinogenic like the last one. They were off in their own worlds, but they both knew Jasper was gonna be pissed that they did it without him. It didn't stop them, though — the stuff was practically calling out! Kanada inhaled Monty's scent as if she were smelling flowers, and he often had that scent anyway. Today he was fresh powder and lillies, and it definitely added to the soothing effects of the drug._

 

_Kanada glanced up at him while his eyes were glazed over in contentment. His shoulders were slacked, but his right hand stayed gently pressed into her left knee and she didn't really mind. The world wasn't chaotic or loud anymore. To her, it was just Monty and Kanada hidden in his parents’ garden, tucked away behind the large flower beds. They hadn't even noticed the shuffling of Jasper's feet as he hurried towards them, his steps uneasy and nervous._

 

_“Guys! The guard, they're checking the garden. Monty, we gotta get her outta here. Her dad will kill her if she's caught,” Jasper rushed, pulling Kanada up by her arm and pushing her towards the closet filled with soil bags._

 

_“W… What?” Kanada questioned. “Who snitched?”_

 

_“Eve,” Jasper told her, and he shushed her as she opened her mouth. “I'm going to go distract them.”_

 

_Monty took the initiative and made sure Kanada was hidden. He adjusted a few bags, and quickly hurried when he heard loud voices._

 

_“Monty, stay here!” she whispered. “Don't leave me, please.”_

 

_“They'll catch you if I do,” he pleaded. He caught her fearful face in his palms and gently pressed his lips against hers. “May we meet again.”_

 

_He closed the closet door, and a couple seconds later shouts were heard, and a quiet whimper from Monty as the butt of a gun slammed against his head. Barely coherent, Kanada caught him recite the Traveler’s Blessing to himself, and assumably to her. This entire ordeal was stressful and concerning, and she worried for both Jasper and Monty._

 

_The next day, Kanada made it her mission to make Eve pay for what she did. She found it ironic that a girl named 'Eve’ of all people snitched, considering Eve in the Christian Bible was the little bitch who ate from the Forbidden Tree. Damn, Kanada was gonna beat her ass. By the time she found the blonde sixteen-year-old, her fury was overflowing. She had that Kane walk that everyone was fearful of, so people practically flew out of her way to avoid being bulldozed._

 

_Eve was standing in front of a desk at the medical department. There weren't any doctors, nurses, or any adults, really, around to stop her. It was just a plus that the table was so tall. Just as Eve turned around, Kanada gripped the back of the girl's head and slammed it hard against the table. When the blonde stumbled back, screaming, Kanada smirked, and slugged her right in the stomach. The girl keeled over, and the brunette pounded her knee straight into her nose. Eve gripped the ends of her attacker’s hair in a pathetic attempt to save herself, but it did her no good. Kanada slammed her face into the counter about three more times, and then straddled her once she hit the ground. Punch after punch, Eve was unconscious and bloody by the time guards made it in. Kanada had wrapped her legs around Eve's waist, and held tight as guards tried to rip her off the girl. She continued slamming any body part she could into Eve until they took her to the Skybox, kicking and screaming._

 

* * *

 

 

To this day, Kanada still feels like Eve got everything she deserved and more.

 

 The girl pushes through groups of busy delinquents, trying to figure out which part of the forest they would've headed through. There is no way in hell she is going to figure it out. Deciding that it would be a better idea to stay here and help set things up, Kanada begins carving handles out of chunks of wood encircling the trees. Needing a string of some sort to tie them together, Kanada glances around the camp in search of one. Perhaps she can steal someone's shoe lace. Snickering to herself at the thought, the delinquent rummages through materials in the Dropship. Unfortunately, she finds a shit ton of Nylon rope packed away in a container. It's more practical than shoe laces, which depresses her, but it would save her life to use the rope rather than ruin someone's boots.

 

 Tying a few knives together, she becomes pretty content once she pulls together her favorite ones: two decently sized lightweight daggers that are big enough to have the same effect as a sword, but also small and useful enough to hide and use as a throwing knife. It takes a bit longer to carve out a bow, and it looks kind of choppy, but she hears that Finn is pretty good at carving and such, so she is going to ask him to help her once they are back. Normally, she would be too prideful to ask for aid, but Finn seems like a pretty okay guy and people need to stick together in places of unknown. Plus, he has no reason to deny her; she is going to offer up a knife to him anyway.

 

 Her hand is certainly starting to burn, though. She probably should've covered it up sooner after she cut it, but she was so distracted with getting things done and worrying over the boys that it hadn't even crossed her mind. From what she could tell, one of the plants in the underbrush of the forest was medicinal, so she saunters over to the other side of the Dropship. She plucks as many of them as she could find, and stuffs them into a pocket on her backpack; maybe it would be a smart idea to collect as many helpful herbs as possible so she could have them for later. Kanada remembers Monty's advice on crushing herbs, and she keeps it fresh in her brain as she searches for anything to use as a makeshift mortar and pestle. Or she can just use a boulder to keep the herbs on and use a small rock to crush them. That seems more doable.

 

   She manages to forget about the gash on her palm once again as darkness approached, and her stomach is aching to be fed. There is absolutely _nothing_ to eat here, but her hunger was quickly ignored when she turns the corner towards the center of the camp. Delinquents are basically _begging_ Bellamy to take their wristbands off. She hurries to stand alongside Wells, her arms crossing.

 

 “Who's next?” Bellamy asks, scanning the crowd. When his dark eyes land on Kanada, they seem to focus in on her wrist. Uncomfortable, she covered it with her free hand and glared at him.

 

 “What the hell are you doing?” Wells asks, clearly upset by the group's choice of leader.

 

 “We're liberating ourselves. What does it look like?” Bellamy says pompously. His arrogance is drowning her.

 

  “It _looks_ like you're trying to play God,” She steps in, looking up to him, “And between you and me, there are only two type of people who think that's a good idea, yeah? Assholes who are full of themselves and assholes who are running from something. Little birdie tells me you're a bit of both.”

 

  “Oh, yeah?” Bellamy counters, moving closer to her. He is trying to make her feel small. “Your little birdie don't know _shit_ about me.”

 

 “Yeah, just keep fluffing your feathers, peacock,” Kanada hisses. “Don't wanna look like a pussy in front of your clique? Give me one reason not to knee you in the—”

 

 “Kane,” Wells warns her. He gently places a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately thinks of Oliver. Her gaze softens, not going unnoticed by Bellamy. “It's not worth a fight.”

 

  Kanada nods slowly, but she keeps her attention locked furiously on Bellamy. She turns tentatively towards Wells. “Listen, I don't exactly agree with what you've been preaching. But we can't let a dick like him have control, so I've got your back.”

 

 That doesn't exactly calm Wells's nerves down. At all. “The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we've got. Take them off and the Ark will think we're dying.”

 

 “What about your families?” Kanada adds. “Your mothers and fathers? Do you want them to suffer?”

 

 “You don't know _shit_ about suffering!” A kid in the crowd yells. “You're _privileged_!”

 

 A few call out in agreement. She knows she is losing them at a rapid pace. Heart beating in her chest, she opens her mouth to speak, but is unfortunately interrupted.

 

 “That's right,” Bellamy drawls out, his voice gravelly and deep. “They don't know what it's like to suffer. To _starve._ To lose someone to the Chancellor,” he motions towards Wells, “or to the Councilmen. They don't know _pain—”_

 

“— _I lost my mom!”_ Kanada cries out, her voice cracking. It is laced with desperation and loss. Her chapped lips quiver while a pitch black curtain falls around her face. The rosy tint to her cheeks does not go unnoticed by Bellamy, who's burning gaze scorches her skin.

 

 Everyone quiets down, a thick tension running rampant through the camp. Even the insects seem to listen in on the conversation.

 

 “You think you know everyone so well, don't you, Blake? You think _your people_ are the only ones who have suffered. When will you get it through your thick skull that _your people_ are _my people?_ That _your people_ aren't the only ones with nothing to lose?” Kanada declares, her shoulders slumping defeatedly. “You're just a narcissistic prick.”

 

 Bellamy's tongue darts out to his lips, wetting them as he considers the circumstances he isin. The crowd is enthralled by Kanada's announcement, and they seem to sympathize with her and agree with her opinions. Bellamy shoots a look to Murphy, who shakes his head silently, as if to say Bellamy was losing the argument, and fast. His eyes drop to the ground, seeming to thumb over the possible ways to turn it around. He needs this to go his way, and he is running out of time.

 

 The noirette's gaze locks onto Bellamy, who is now staring intently at her, evaluating her. It makes her uneasy, but she sees the action as no less than a challenge. She waits for his eyes to drop, for him to look away. He doesn't. The way he piercingly scrutinizes her raises hairs on the back of her neck, and a shiver runs down her spine. This wasn't the Bellamy Blake that could be described only by the choice 'cocky'. This one was desperate, _worried;_ and it shakes Kanada Kane to the very _core._

 

 She doesn't fail to catch the way his face twists in thought, the cogs in his brain working diligently to provide him with a solution.

 

 “That's it? We're supposed to feel bad for you? After what Jaha has done— after what _your father_ has done?” Bellamy roars,  his arms flying out to emphasize the dramatics. “Do you _genuinely_ believe that _I—_ that _any_ of us— should have to conform to the same rules that killed our families? To the _same_ rules that got Octavia thrown in prison for being _alive?”_

 

“My father,” Kanada explains, “came to me the night your sister was arrested. He was distraught, heartbroken. He may not be the best person on that damn ship, but he has a heart. And as much as I'd like to never have to see him again—”

 

 “ _Bullshit,_ Kane,” Bellamy hisses. “That man had the coldest eyes I'd ever seen the day he flushed… my _mother_ out into space. The fact you can even say there's anything human left in him is bullshit. You know what _I_ think? I think you're _just_ like your father.”

 

 A deafening silence ensues, mixed with shuffling feet and hushed murmurs. The bonfire crackles in anticipation, the tiny embers swallowing the camp in their intensity.

 

 Kanada remains mute as her mind races. How _dare_ Bellamy Blake accuse her of such a claim! The way his eyes glisten in triumph only fuel her irritation more. However, the frightening factor of his accusation how true it really was, if she were honest. Kanada _is_ similar to her father in many aspects, but not to the exaggeration that Bellamy is implying; he had to have said it to provoke suspicions among the hundred.

 

   “Don't you understand, Kane?” The stocky boy hounds, “We are _done_ taking orders. Here? There are no laws. Here? We do whatever the hell we want whenever the hell we want. Now, you don't have to like it. You can even try to stop it or change it…”

 

  Bellamy takes a heavy step forward towards her, tilting his head so she can get a good look at him. His shirt strains around his shoulders as he licks his lips.

 

 “... kill me,” he continues, his eyes boring holes into Kanada's face. He pulls back, and twisting around on his ankle to face the crowd. “You know why? Whatever the hell we want.”

 

 Suddenly, Murphy repeats Bellamy's phrase, and the entire crowd shouts loudly, their arms pumping victoriously into the air. They all begin chanting the same words, and every syllable repeated pours gasoline on the fire in Kanada's chest. As she saunters forward to confront Bellamy on a more personal level, a loud crack rumbles from above, followed by rainwater pouring violently down over the camp.

 

 Kanada stops in her footsteps, her head swiveling up to gaze at the sky. The cool droplets tickling her face seem to lessen her fury, almost as if they were dousing the flames burrowing in her abdomen. She imagines Monty and Jasper looking up at the same sky as her; she imagines their wonder as they capture the water in their mouths. The distant shouting of the delinquents is muffled by her own laughter as she pictures what comment Jasper would make in this moment. What comment he's making right now, without her. She smiles knowingly, and suddenly she's unbelievably thankful that she's on Earth.

 

   She trembles in her skin, and basks in the way the water trickles down her jaw and plunges deep into the valley of her collarbone. As if it were a pool, dozens of droplets slip from her clavicle as the rain overflows, now racing down her chest in bunches. Her tan fitting shirt couldn't even barricade them. The long skin-tight sleeves were now soaked, but she didn't pay it any mind. _This_ is the sensation she dreamed off since she was a child; it wasn't a single tick less.

 

 Bellamy had taken a step back when she began to approach him, but once the rain started, she stopped altogether. A flood of relief rushes through him, but a curiosity soon follows. His eyes roam across her facial features as the rain pummels into the ground. Her dramatic ability to transition from peaceful to violent and vice versa is stumbling. All he's seen from her is a furious shell, but there is something utterly feminine and human about her right now. He wonders if other women are truly this two-faced; his sister definitely has a similar change.

 

 If there's one thing Bellamy Blake knows, it's that this is no time to admire a criminal; he nods curtly at Murphy, and heads for the makeshift tent that was set up for him an hour or so ago. He is determined to keep the Ark in the sky, and he will cut off every unwilling hand that doesn't give up their wristband; he's going to start with Wells Jaha, and end with Kanada Kane if it's the last thing he does.

 


	2. No Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Clarke and party's traumatic expedition to Mount Weather, Kanada joins the group on a trip to save Jasper Jordan from the grounders. Tensions rise, and enemies are made, as well as friendships. Kanada and Monty take the next step in their relationship, but things will not stay as lovely as they originally thought. One thing is for sure, though: Kanada Kane wants her father to feel something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this series ❤️

    Marcus Kane hates his daughter's hair, the oceans of silky coal tumbling down her shoulders in dark sheets. He hates the way it reminds him he's a widower, and how it tells the story of his daughter's privilege. The same privilege he and his wife were never able to grasp as children. In a way, he is spiteful and furious, because how _dare_ his daughter have a life his love was never able to have? Her hair was rarely cut, and there wasn't a single misplaced strand in sight. Her hair tells the story of privilege.

 Marcus Kane hates his daughter's mouth. It tells the tale of a neglected daughter, and it hesitates in a shiver when he looks at her with such an intense pain in his face. He knows she's not to blame, but he can't help himself. Kane hates his daughter's mouth because it is unfiltered and reminds him of the night's she'd spend in Factory Station without him even realizing she wasn't home, without muttering a single hint. Her mouth warns him of an aggressor, a girl who learned to be violent before she could understand what for. He hates it because it is woven of fighting words, one's that are harsh and scarred, like accustomed to the manipulative Factory kids. Those children grew up just _surviving_ and it haunts him that his daughter ever had to be one of them.

Marcus Kane, most of all, hates his daughter's eyes. They reflect the disappointment his wife would have in him now if she saw him like this. They reflect the same hatred that families of overage prisoners have when the person they love is floated. It isn't a present hatred, either; it's a haunting one. One that is broken and cracked with distress and a feeling of hopelessness. It's the hatred that greets him at night before his slumber, the kind that reminds him daily that he is isn't allowed a happiness. He hates her eyes, the way they curve like her mother's, and despite their emptiness, they are muddy, like freshly turned soil after it rains. They are rocky and hot as whisky, and that makes his skin _crawl._

His daughter's deep-rooted aggression shakes him to the very core, deep down to his soul. His bones shiver in fear that his neglect will come back for him, that one day the guilt will race up his spine. He doesn't want to face her and see her as she is. He will finally realize she is his daughter, a child he couldn't look at for longer than seven seconds without seeing his dead wife. That woman's face was reflected everyday in the little girl he was forced to raise. Some days, he drank himself to death just hearing that little girl's cry for attention.

 " _Go to your room,"_ he'd say, tipping back the bottle a little farther than last time.

 " _But I haven't eaten dinner yet—"_ she'd cry out, tiny hands clasping her stomach.

  _"GO, NOW,"_ that gruff man would shout, raising his hand to her face. He'd only hit her once, but his hands still shiver from it and she still flinches. Some days he wonders how'd she be now if things were different then.

 

* * *

 

 

Kanada is many things. A fighter, maybe, but she is also painfully alone in the world when she gives it more than a three seconds thought. Perhaps it isn't to the point that it bothers her, but sometimes she sits for a moment and realizes that she is just as isolated here as she was on the Ark. The two places are similar, really; she was raised on the Ark fending for herself in a station she wasn't born in. That was rough enough, considering the residents couldn't stand an Alpha kid slumming it in the Factory or Farm stations. To them, she was just an Alpha street rat come to brag about her superiority. That's bullshit, though. They were just trying to make themselves feel better for thinking Alpha Station didn't have any kids who had it rough.

 In some ways, Kanada is glad her father was inattentive and didn't care much for where she was. If he had, she probably wouldn't have been strong enough to survive down here. Really, she probably wouldn't have been down here in the first place. It's alright, though. Earth isn't bad, and it's better than the Ark. The stark appearance of the spaceship couldn't compare to the amounts of color here. It was better than she ever could have imagined.

  _Thanks for being a dick, Dad,_ Kanada thinks bitterly. The early morning flowed through camp, and majority of the delinquents were too busy sleeping and such to even realize she was gone. Not that anyone would have noticed, regardless. In her opinion, Earth is the most beautiful right before the sun meets the sky. The small crack in time known as a sunrise creeped onto her unexpectedly this morning, but she was pleasantly surprised.

 Now, she is leaning up against a tree trunk, exhausted from training with her new bow. She expects Finn and the others to turn up later today, so for now she must deal with the uneven carving in the wood. Sighing, Kanada adjusts herself against the trunk, but stands up, knowing she must continue. Picking up the bow, she nocks an arrow carefully, and draws back the nylon string. She's unbelievably tired, she notices. She had told Wells, who was barely waking up by the time she was heading into the woods, that she was rising early to hunt. In reality, she couldn't sleep due to her worry for Monty and Jasper, but she wouldn't tell a soul. 

 Straightening her back and selecting a target, Kanada prepares herself to shoot the makeshift arrow, but a small squeal has her jerking around and causing the arrow to fly from her hand into a nearby tree. It awkwardly sits there, right above the head of the youngest delinquent, Charlotte. Kanada only really knew her name because she caught wind of a couple girls discussing how sad it was she was there, rather than in the Ark with her parents. They must be stupid to not realize Charlotte's parents died. There is a dead look in her eyes that is reflected in Kanada's own. That was only present in kids' eyes who've lost a loved one, especially a parent. Kanada considers her father to be dead, in a way.

 "What the hell are you doing, Charlotte?" She scolds, lowering the bow. She drops to the ground, sitting cross-legged with her bow on her left. The young blonde girl crawls her way towards the noirette, and mirrors her sitting position across from her.

 "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just.. I couldn't sleep," her voice is soft and frightened, too. Kanada couldn't imagine being so young and sent to the ground.

 "Me neither," Kanada whispers, and she thoughtfully plucks the bow's string. Her dark hair trickles over her face, as she purses her lips in silence.

  "Are you going to hurt Bellamy?" Charlotte blurts quietly, causing Kanada's eyes to shoot to her in bewilderment. "I just mean- Everyone saw you fighting, and I… I thought you were going to kill him."

 " _What?"_ Kanada says, her mind racing. She didn't want this little girl to think she was violent. "N-No, I don't imagine I will. Why?"

 "People are saying you hurt people to get sent down here," Charlotte says, but her facial expression warns Kanada that she regrets even mentioning anything. She thinks she dug herself into a hole she can't escape.

 "Uh.. Everyone did something to get down here, Charlotte. Y-Yes, I did something bad, but I don't intend to hurt someone else unless I have to," Kanada shrugs, still a bit shaken from the girl's words.

"Why did you do it?"

"I… I did it to avenge the ones I love."

"Did it help them at all?"

"I'm down here with them, aren't I?" Kanada says wistfully. Sometimes she feels that maybe attacking Eve wasn't the best choice, but now that she's on Earth, with Jasper and Monty? She's _glad_ she was put in Confinement.

"But now they have to worry about you all the time. The ones you care about are the Asian boy and the boy with goggles, right?" Charlotte says, and she continues once Kanada nods once. "If I were them and I saw you starting fights all the time, I'd probably be worried a lot. You could get yourself in a dangerous place and then they'd have to lose you. Is that helping them?"

 Kanada frowns deeply. Maybe she was right, but she wasn't going to take life advice from a thirteen-year-old. Before she could reply, a loud grunt erupts from the camp. She jerks her head in that direction, and sees Wells dragging two bodies from the dropship towards the woods. She stands quickly, and smiles lightly at Charlotte. "Please hide my bow for me and tell me where you put it later. I have to go, okay?"

 She bounds after Wells, and quickly pulls one of the bodies' legs up, and the stocky boy swings around, shocked.

 "Kane?" He asks, partly frightened and partly pleased that she was helping.

 "You weren't going to bury them by yourself, were you? It's better that I help now and not murder you later for not asking," She smirks, heaving the body closer to her. "You _are_ planning on burying them, right? I'm not participating in any cannibal shit, you got me?"

 Wells blinks at her, his eyes blown wide. He shakes his head quickly, but realizes it's a joke, and laughs awkwardly. "No, just burying them. I've got a place set up over there."

 He begins moving again, and Kanada nods stiffly. It saddens her that he felt so alone as to bury them by himself. Then again, she felt a similar way, huh? She begins moving the body towards the location Wells was heading, and quickly caught up to him.

 "How are you holding up?" Wells quips, painfully trying to end the silence.

 "Normal, I guess. I talked with Charlotte earlier," Kanada replies, readjusting the body.

 "Who?"

 "Oh, the youngest kid here. She's like thirteen."

"Oh, her. I haven't spoken to her," Wells responds, and he stops to warn her about the steep slope. "Careful here. Don't want you to slip."

 Kanada nods, and her eyebrows furrow while she steps slowly down the hill. Wells is being awfully considerate. Maybe he isn't such a dick when he's not trying to save everybody. "Why are being so nice to me? I was a bitch to you yesterday."

Wells shrugs. "We can't all be saints, right?"

  Kanada notices the shortness of his breath. "Do you need a break?"

 "No," he says quickly. "We're almost there."

 She merely hums in response, and hurries after him. By the time they reach the spot, the sun is creeping up behind them. Wells carefully drops his body in the grass besides the dirt, and Kanada does the same.

A single thought runs through her mind. She had heard whispers last night in the forest while she was studying the leaves and trees and such. It was a couple, a girl and a boy, talking amongst themselves while tucked away in the brush. According to them, they were the last people on the dropship, and they saw something horrible.

 "Wells?" She almost whimpers. The boy marks the spot on the dirt where he's going to start shoveling.

 "What's wrong?"

"I.. I heard that the Chancellor was shot," She says slowly. He doesn't respond. "Do you think that it's—"

"True? Probably," He shoots back, slamming the tip of the shovel into the dirt, and pulling some up. "How do you think Bellamy got on?"

 "I.. I guess I never really thought about it," She replies. "Wells?"

 "What?" He says, facing her. He's sweating, and his eyes are wild but he doesn't falter until she turns to mirror his stance. His lips quiver. Most of all, there's an edge in his tone that worries her deeply.

 "It's okay to be scared for him," Kanada whispers, and before she knows what's she's doing, she rushes forward, and envelopes him in her arms. He takes a step back, surprised, but meets her hug with open vulnerability. His face tucks into her neck, and his bulky hands are grabbing at her tan shirt while he cries softly. Her head is tilted on his shoulder, quietly consoling him. "My mother passed away a long time ago. It happened so suddenly… I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, but take comfort in that the fact I felt it in the past, so I understand the grief."

 He nods rapidly, and finally his breathing slows after a few minutes. His grasp loosens, and he tentatively pulls away just enough to face her. Kanada releases his back, and wipes the stray tears from his face. There's an unrecognizable shimmer in his eyes. He leans forward, and places a gentle kiss on her forehead, as a thank you. Kanada smiles gently, one that he thought he'd never see due to her hard exterior. It's nice to know it doesn't take much to break her open, though.

Placing a quick kiss on his cheek, Kanada pulls away from him entirely. "You ready to get to work, Sparky?"

 He shivers. "Yeah. Hey, uh, do you want to go hunting or something with me tomorrow night? I was planning on going out again to find some water."

 Kanada hesitates. "Uh, sure. Hey, where's your wristband? I thought you didn't want it taken off?"

 Wells smiles but it falls just as quick. He grudgingly picks up the shovel, and continues tearing the dirt from the open area. Each time the tool pounds into the soil, Kanada feels worse about asking.

 "Talk to Blake," Wells states stiffly, and nothing is said for the next hour or so while they switch turns digging the graves.

 

* * *

 

 

 Wells and Kanada make it back to camp after about an hour and a half. The sun is now blazing once they arrive in the clearing of the dropship location, and there is a chaos erupting throughout the camp. Teens were making out in cliff sides and in the crooks of trees, and Kanada could _swear_ she heard some explicit sounds coming from behind the bushes on the right. She shivers at the thought and hurries to catch up with the dark-skinned boy. He had been carrying the clothes towards the dropship.

  "Are you feeling better now?" Kanada quips, and Wells shrugs.

 "I don't wanna talk about it," He says. Although, the furrow in his brow shows his grief. She wasn't going to force him.

 "Okay," She finishes.

Kanada still wasn't getting used to this whole Earth thing. She had the capabilities to do _whatever_ she wants, but she can't help but refrain. Sure, she'd give anything to go dive in a lake or sit around and do absolutely nothing, but that just wasn't her. Perhaps jumping into a lake was, but as far as everyone was concerned, no one had found any source of water to do so. Overall, the different sensations and colors were plain overwhelming. It was a bit unusual to see plants and trees growing naturally. It reminds her of the tree her grandmother takes care of, and she smiles contently. What she would do to meet her grandmother again.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Atom, the boy she met on the dropship. He seems much more gruff than he was before. Bellamy must've gotten his hands on him. "Hey, where'd you get the clothes?"

 "We buried the two kids who died during the landing," Wells states firmly.

 "You made a girl do all that labor?" Atom replies, his eyes raking down Kanada in a way that makes her skin crawl. What the _hell_ did Bellamy do to this kid?

 "I can show you a thing or two about labor, if you'd like," Kanada replies, half-serious. Her arms subconsciously cross as she shifts her weight on on leg. She finally learned to put a pair of boots on, at least.

 "Oh?" Atom replies, stepping forward. The smirk doesn't leave his lips, which are surrounded by a light stubble. Kanada rolls her eyes dramatically.

 "You're disgusting. Regardless, we're taking these clothes to the dropship," She says, taking them from Wells and securing them in her arms.

 "Yeah, we share based on need, just like back home," Wells adds. Suddenly, Atom lurches forward to take them from Kanada's hands and she turns her body away from him, yanking her head around to scowl at him.

"You still don't get it, do you, Chancellor? This is home now. Your father's rules no longer apply," A voice joins in. A voice that makes Kanada's eyes shoot to the giant tent ahead of them. Her scowl deepens when none other than Bellamy Blake exits, a woman wrapped around his torso. Kanada can't help but roll her eyes.

 "It's a good thing he's not his father, then," She objects, her eyes quickly raking down the older boy's body. It does not go unnoticed by Bellamy, who's ego is firmly boosted by her behavior. He saunters forward, and she takes multiple steps back. "I will rip out your goddamn throat if you so much as come _near_ me."

 Bellamy's grin stretches further across his freckled cheeks. He stops abruptly, studying her. Almost like deciding on something, he nods sharply. "That's hot, Kane."

 "Oh, it is? How about you go set up a nice warm candle in your tent, and I'll join you in a minute. I'll show you what's hot," She seethes, jutting her chin up at him. Angrily, she chucks one of the shirts at him, just so he can cover up.

  Before he can respond, a scream erupts from the center of the camp. He and Atom rush to see what's the matter. Quickly, Kanada shoves the clothes into Wells's arms, and heads down to witness the ruckus as well.

 "Bellamy. Check it out. We want the Ark to think—"

 As soon as that girl catches a _glimpse_ of what Murphy was doing, she rolls up her sleeves, pounding down the hill. Before anyone really knew what was occurring, her fist sunk deep into Murphy's noise, causing him to fly back and drop the girl. "You _dick!"_

 Murphy reels for a moment, but he's quick to be on his feet. "I called you one of _us,_ and _this_ is how you pay me back? You're dead, sunshine."

 "Next time, don't try to burn a girl's face off, yeah?" Kanada barks back. Noticing the knife that emerges from Murphy's pocket, her eyes flicker in hesitation. Shockingly, Bellamy is her saving grace.

 "Wait. Firecracker. Seems like you are missing this, right?" He pulls the metal he took from her yesterday, but this time there's a handle nearly tied. Was he using it since yesterday? "I want it back if you survive."

 Kanada scoffs. " _Please,_ like I'd let you reign over this camp. I won't be going down _that_ easily. Have you no faith in me?"

 She smirks, pulling the metal from his hand, and winks. Bellamy reels for a second. This girl is going to be the death of him, and he finally considers the idea that it won't be because she viciously murders him.

 Murphy lunges, knife in hand. He swipes for her head. A predictable move. She ducks, and grabs the same arm that was aimed for her. She pulls it behind his back, and yanks it farther down his spine until his fingers loosen and drop the blade. Her lips fall to his ear while she slowly places her own uneven knife against his throat. "That was pretty hot, John."

 Murphy licks his lips suddenly. "Just kidding," she continues. "Maybe if you weren't such a douche; and if you grew a bit of a stubble, maybe got a couple scars on your nose. You feel me?"

"Oh, yeah?" He asks.

 "Yeah."

"Kanada! What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to become a target?" Clarke emerges from the top of the hill, sprinting down the slope. She looks distraught.

 "Haven't I always been?" Kanada replies, shooting the bird to the sky once she releases Murphy, who doesn't seem to look at her the same way. "Thanks, Dad."

 "Octavia, are you alright? Where's the food?" Bellamy bellows as she and Monty slide down the hill, and the world seems to slow for Kanada.

As soon as Octavia is dropped into Bellamy's hands, Monty rushed to his best friend, and they embrace tightly. His hands are softly pulling at her shirt as he attempts to come closer to her. His fingertips hit the skin on the her lower spine, and she shivers. Their faces are buried in each other's necks, and Monty is whispering something she can't quite understand. Kanada's arms snake around the flesh of his nape, her fingers disappearing into the black forests of his hair. Neither one pay much attention to the conversation until a cold realization hits her like a freight train.

 "Where's Jasper?" Kanada calls out to Clarke. Her body never leaves Monty's, but rather she gives him a side hug, her arm around his back and vice versa.

Clarke's eyes fall to the girl, struggling to be able to form the words because of the crack in Kanada's voice. "Jasper… Jasper was hit. They took him."

 Maybe the world slowed when Monty was there for her to rush into, but it stopped completely now. She has stood for years and never faltered, but hearing the news of Jasper's death made her legs _quiver._ Kanada's body seems to reject the news, and she slants into Monty's arms, who holds her up. "... _What?_ Is he…?"

Monty shakes his head viciously, and he uses his hands to grab her face when she steadies on her feet. "No, not that we know of. I _promise_ you that we'll find him, okay?"

 He blinks as tears form in Kanada's eyes. He had never seen her cry. Not even when her mother died. She had just taken it, and never moved. She took the pain as it filled her up, but she never cried. To see the emotion finally light a fuse causes salty tears to roll down his cheeks to match the ones threatening to race down hers. Except, Kanada wipes under her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her shirt, and the emotion is gone as quick as it billowed through her. Her face is tight, hard, and Monty shivers.

Sure, she resembles her mother, but there's a familiarity in her features that is matched by no one but Marcus Kane. The crease in her brow and her tight-lipped expression was identical to her father, and that was the scariest part. He wonders if she sees herself in the mirror and the only person reflecting back is the man who fears her the most. God, how badly he wants to steal this pain from her, to allow himself to suck it into his body. She didn't need this. She suffered enough.

 

         **_Seven Years Ago, Ark Station:_ **

 

_"Kandy?" A voice flowed through the crack beneath her door.  Kanada should have known. Dad was at 'work' today, but it was the day of the week he tended to stay home. Her mother had been 'sick' for the last three days, but the day she disappeared, she hadn't had anything wrong with her. She was just whisked away into the night. Plus, Dad didn't eat breakfast this morning and he refused to look his daughter in the eye. She should have known her Mom was dead. It's too late to say goodbye, now. But if there was one thing certain, it was the voice behind the front door. It was a sure, solid voice that promised her ground._

_Monty didn't say another thing for about a minute, but he couldn't help but use the key card she gave him for emergencies. Surely this was an emergency. He knew Kanada's mother wasn't feeling well, but something was off with all three members of her family. Creeping inside the white Alpha Station apartment, Monty tried to make as little noise as possible, but Kanada peeked through the crack in her bedroom door. Monty's childish face crept close to the crevice, a lopsided smile on his face. It faded when he noticed the stark emptiness on her features._

_"Is everything okay?" He quipped._

_Kanada shrugged, her eyes devoid of emotion. "Mom's dead. Dad won't come home."_

_"Oh…" the eleven-year-old boy whispers, and his young heart weeps for her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose his Mom. But he also knew how she was and how she handled powerful pain like that. "Show me your arm."_

_Kanada hesitated, but reached out her right arm for him to see. The girl had a nasty habit of scratching her arm raw when she was stressed, but it was entirely Kane's fault. He always told her to be a strong little girl. He told her it was not okay to cry._

_On the eleven-year-old girl's arm was a deep red while the skin had goosebumps and seemed to swell softly. Blood lines indicating where her nails cut were the worst, little dots scattered across the skin._

_"It'll be okay, Kandy, I promise," Young Monty whispered, and he held her hand._

_Her next words chilled him to the core. "I know."_

 

 

* * *

 

 

"So you're telling us there are Earthborns? How is that even possible?" Kanada adds to the conversation, crossing her arms. She shifts her stance to favor her right leg, and ignores the aching in her chest and lungs. Her fingers subconsciously tap against her upper arm in impatience and anxiety. "Are they using something? Masks, medicines, anything? This could mean that we could've survived the Bombs, and never had to…"

 "I don't think so," Clarke replies, worry etched across her face. She's scared for Kanada. "I think that over _time,_  Grounders were able to adapt but studies before the Bombs tell us that the radiation would've certainly killed humans."

"So people who were in bunkers and other shit would have eventually come out and survived for short periods of time. Their kids would be more immune to the radiation, and then they would've passed it on and so forth…" Kanada puts two and two together. "And then eventually they're all immune."

"Exactly. Wait, where's your wristband?" Clarke approaches Wells, her eyes blown wide.

 "Ask him," Wells says lowly while nodding to Bellamy. His eyes meeting Kanada's for only a moment.

"How many?" Clarke questions the curly haired boy, whose arms were wrapped securely around his sister.

"Twenty-four and counting," Murphy drawls, causing Kanada's mouth to twitch irritably. She wasn't going to lie, they were awfully intelligent for doing this. She understands their positions and opinions of the Council, full-heartedly. If anything, she is among them. So much so, that removing her wristband doesn't seem like a horrible idea. She wants her father to feel what she's felt. To know the same neglect. If one thing was for sure, she was _tired_ of being the one who loses something. _Tired_ of losing people that matter to her, and sure as hell _tired_ of allowing herself to become a vulnerable target. This is Earth, and she is going to learn to adapt to it. If it means tearing herself apart and rebuilding from scrap, she will. Maybe it's selfish, maybe it's the dumbest decision she'll ever make, but right now, it feels damn good.

Fire doesn't stop for the families in danger. Lightning doesn't hesitate for the critters in the tree when a storm perseveres. Time doesn't stop for the depressed, the same way Mother Nature doesn't hesitate for the weak. This is Earth, and it's kill or be killed; Kanada Kane is _not_ going to die an easy target, nor fall down quietly. She's going to make a stand. Against who? The Ark, her father? She doesn't know. Doesn't care.

"Make it twenty-five and counting," The words slip past her lips coolly, and she steps towards Bellamy and Murphy. Dust and soil kicks up around her boots, and there's an eerie silence passing over the camp. Her eyes are dead, and it shakes the delinquents. It's as if she clicked a button in her soul, and every fiber of her being except her vital organs keeping her alive are dead. As she moves towards the two boys, Monty feels a searing detachment from her. As if she didn't just release him for a moment, but rather she tore herself from him completely, physically and emotionally.

 Murphy smirks, reaching out for her, and she scowls. A word didn't pass from Clarke, surprisingly. She was awestruck by the sudden switch in the girl, her lips growing dry. Kanada tuts softly at Murphy, keeping her slim wrist away from him.

 "Not yet," She denies. Her lips form a slight frown.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Kane? Why would you support their idiotic decision?" Clarke finally demands. She takes a long stride forward, to reach for Kanada, but she seems oceans away. Her heart sinks with each step, and Murphy's mutts come closer each time she approaches. "You idiots. Life support on the Ark is failing. That's why they brought us down here. They need to know the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!"

 "What's the point, Princess? We've got Kane now. Might as well give up," Murphy sneers.

 "Woah, never said I was joining your stupid ass fight," Kanada jumps in, her hands on her hips while she paws at the dirt with her foot, head hanging low. "I'm just surviving."

"That's the _opposite_ of what you're doing, Kanada!" Clarke screams out desperately. "Don't you want to see your Dad again?"

 " _Fuck_ him," Kanada jeers, voice dripping with venom. "Clarke, it's just a wristband. There is only one person on the Ark I care about, and it's not him."

 "And let the innocent people up there die?" Clarke argues. She's filled with sadness and disappointment, as well as frustration.

 "Good riddance, I say," Kanada retorts, and she twirls on her heel, marching in the opposite direction. Monty shakes himself out of his hopeless stupor and dashes to follow her path, but Bellamy slams his large hand against the boy's chest, causing Monty to cough a bit.

"We're stronger than you think. Don't listen to her. She's one of the privileged," Bellamy bellows. "If they come down, she'll have it good. How many of you can say the same? We can take care of ourselves. That wristband on your arm? It makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore! They say they'll forgive your crimes. I say you're not criminals! You're fighters, survivors! The Grounders should worry about us!"

 As the delinquents shout and rejoice, Clarke sighs. She's utterly exhausted about this entire situation, and she knows that Kanada is behaving this way due to a fear of what her father might say if he came down. Clarke thinks she'll overcome it eventually, and gain her senses back; maybe if Clarke's lucky, Kanada will wait long enough for Jasper to arrive safe and sound before she removes her wristband. As useful as Kanada would be on the field looking for her best friend, Clarke fears she's too unstable to bring her with. She can't imagine what would happen if Kanada discovered Jasper was dead.

Bellamy releases Monty from his grip, and the slim boy stumbles over to Clarke, an unreadable mix of emotions on his face. "What do we do now?"

 Clarke hums, crossing her arms. Her eyes do not leave the direction Kanada disappeared to. "Now we go after Jasper."

 "What about…?" Monty says quietly, turning to face the blonde quizzically.

 "I'm not sure. She's too unstable to bring with, but too strong to leave here. I'm afraid she'll get herself into a mess while we're gone," Clarke replies.

 "Let me go talk to her."

"Okay," Clarke says, watching Monty's back as he jogs towards the dropship.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Monty's stomach churns as he approaches the flap to the dropship. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his hands are growing significantly more clammy as the seconds tick by. _God_ , he is worried for both of his best friends. What will happen if Jasper dies and Kanada has a mental breakdown, leaving Monty to pick up the pieces? He can't _heal_ her, he knows that. Only she can. Does she have the strength to do it on her own, though?

 "Kandy?" Monty whispers. There's a gentle shuffle in the ship, suggesting the girl was in there. A sigh erupts from behind the flap, and then the boy moves the soft fabric and steps inside to check on the culprit. Kanada is hanging her legs down the hole from the second floor, kicking out lightly every couple of seconds. Monty slowly peers up, meeting the eyes of no one. A raggedy brown notebook blocks his vision. "You wanna talk about it?"

 "Not really," She quips. Her hand is scratching violently into the notebook with a charcoal-like pencil. Her youthful features are focused but guarded. "When are we heading out to get him?"

 "Soon, I imagine," Monty replies, pushing his black hair out of his face while sliding the girl's legs over enough for him to crawl up the ladder, and plop down beside her. "Clarke and I think you should stay."

 Kanada cocks her eye at him, but soon trains her attention on the paper. Monty licks his lips beside her, unsure of how to really approach her like this. The dark-haired girl shrugs nonchalantly. "Why?"

 "Because," Monty stops. He considers telling her what Clarke said, but chooses against it. She didn't need to know that Clarke felt she was 'unstable' in any way, shape, or form. In all honesty, it pisses him off that the blonde girl thinks she can assume anything about Kanada, when she has only known her in close quarters for two days, and half of that time, she was gone. Sure, Kanada is emotionally impacted by Jasper's dangerous situation, but not to the point where she wouldn't be able to attend his search party. If anything, it would drive her to find him more. He is assured that if _anyone_ is capable of locating Jasper, it's her. "I— Okay, um… _I_ don't necessarily feel like you should stay for your emotional health, but rather because I know you can keep Blake and Murphy in line while we're gone. I know, _with all of my heart,_ " Monty says softly, gaining her attention with his gentle eyes and his warm hands grasping hers, "that you are the _most_ able to find Jasper. There is not a _doubt_ in my soul."

 Kanada's eyes are locked on his while she smiles tentatively, and she feels her heart swell. She really cares for Monty, and she doesn't know what she'd do if she lost him. He's her anchor. The boy spoke again, " _But—_ you are a natural leader, and I think it would be best if you watched the camp."

Before either one could open their mouths to say anything, a loud ruckus below signifies that Clarke and Wells are below them, as the latter's rumbling voice echoes across the entire dropship. Monty passes Kanada a lopsided grin and a shrug as he hops down from the second floor, and approaches the blonde. "Clarke, he's right. We need him. So far no one else has volunteered."

 Clarke sighs, her eyes shooting darts at Kanada. _Damn,_  can she really leave the girl here if practically no one else is coming? Fuck emotional stability. They need her strength and wits, and they can't take Monty because of the capabilities he gained while on the Ark. "I'm sorry, Monty, but you're not going either."

 Monty prickles at this, swiftly stepping towards Clarke. His face is laced with frustration and concern. "Like hell I'm not. Jasper's my best friend."

 Clarke shows a bit of sympathy for him, but it is soon abolished due to her intelligence and basic common sense. It simply isn''t worth the risk. "You're too important. You were raised on Farm Station and recruited by engineering."

 Monty stills. "So?"

Clarke can tell she isn't getting through to him. Kanada is aware he's always had a rock hard head, but the blonde doesn't recognize that and it shows. "So food and communication," Clarke steps up, and taps the side of Monty's forehead gently, "What's up here, it's gonna save us all. You figure out how to talk to the Ark and I'll bring Jasper back… Hey. You ready?"

 Everyone's attention is drawn to Finn as he slides past the flap, and Clarke greets him. Monty climbs back up to the second floor, collapsing beside Kanada once again. He's defeated, but understands Clarke's reasoning and purpose. As Clarke faces Finn, Kanada smiles slowly and taps Monty's forehead to mirror the girl's earlier actions, causing the boy's ears to flush red. He shrugs her off, his cheeks burning.

 "I'm not going anywhere, and neither should any of you. That spear was thrown with pinpoint accuracy from 300 feet," Finn states, his face nonchalant and serious. Kanada has to blink at him for a second to process either the words portraying Jasper's danger, or the fact he's refusing to attend the trip. Both, really. After his words register in her brain, she frowns deeply.

 "Are you _serious_ right now? You're _actually_ considering just leaving him?" Kanada spits.

 Finn prickles, and crosses his arms as he points his laser eyes at her. "I'm not _considering_ anything. It's not up for debate, I'm staying here."

 Before Kanada could pipe back up, Clarke speaks in her favor. "Spacewalker? What a joke. You think you're such an adventurer. You're really just a coward." The blonde brushes past him, making sure to give his shoulder a bit of a shove.

 Finn's attention grinds back to Monty and Kanada, who spare him no empathy. He sighs and turns back to Clarke, "It's not an adventure, Clarke, it's a suicide mission." When the blonde healer ignores him, Wells begins to speak to Finn, and soon rushes out of the dropship after her. Monty and Kanada aren't paying much attention anymore, until the former adds to the conversation.

 "Jasper looked up to you," he says sadly, his attention on Finn, and lowers his head. Kanada ruffles his hair, and readjusts the thick locks now astray across the bridge of his nose and poking his eyelashes. Monty keeps his lips tight while she does this, his puppy-like eyes roaming across the expanse of her face. When she isn't viciously fighting for a purpose, there's a serenity in her expressions that always mesmerizes him. He wonders how the other delinquents would react if they saw her like this, but he doesn't ponder over it for long. He's greedy and content in the way that he believes he gets to keep her mild manner to himself, and never have to share, spare for perhaps only Jasper. As much as he'd like for the 100 to witness her occasional kind nature, there's just something about it that's simply his, and he loves that. He's never gotten to have something of his own, and maybe it's a bit selfish, but he wants nothing more but to keep it that way. He's grown up sharing, be it with his neighbors or parents or co-workers. But not this time. The way her pink chapped lips curl ever so slightly as her deep brown eyes gaze up into his hairline, and the way tiny dimples appear just next to the corner of her mouth. He wonders if others have ever seen those impressions in her skin, the way they add to her charm.  

_No,_ he decides. _They're all his._

 She hardens ever so slightly, but the boy can always tell because the dimples disappear like stars hiding in the night. He's so sad to see them go. "I need to go with them," the raven-haired girl vocalizes finally. "To find Jasper. I can't sit around doing nothing. I'm no use here, and I sure as hell can't play soldier in camp while my best friend is missing, possibly dead."

 "I know," Monty whispers, a deep-rooted depression latching onto his heart. She feels helpless, and he can tell, but he's not sure how to convince Clarke to let the girl go. Personally, if he's staying, he desires nothing more than for her too, to stay, but he understands her like the back of his hand, and she won't go down quietly. " _I know."_

The Asian boy sighs, his shoulders slumping and his hands falling in between his legs. He really does need to begin working on communication, like Clarke said. So, he pulls his legs above the ladder and stands, helping Kanada up too. As she follows his footsteps, Clarke's voice rings below them.

 "Forget what I said earlier. Kanada, we need you. We've got Bellamy coming with us, and I need someone to watch him," she says, and Kanada's heart soars. She'll be able to find Jasper! Grinning, she throws her arms around Monty's neck, who's stunned with surprise, but he quickly reciprocates. He's happy for her but shaken to the core. He was really hoping to talk to Kanada about her arrest, but he supposes that can wait. Jasper is the main concern. He hears Clarke disappear back out into the camp, as the flap to the dropship shutters with movement.

 "I'm going to find him," Kanada promises, her hands landing on Monty's heated cheeks. Their eye contact doesn't stutter until she leans forward to plant a kiss on his cheek, and Monty, elated, jumps forward and attaches himself to her lips. It's brief, but enough to leave the girl speechless and shocked. That's not what she was expecting at all, and Monty can sense that deep in his bones.

 "I— oh, god, I'm so sorry. I didn't—" he begins, but Kanada just laughs, and the dimples in her cheeks reappear. Her skin is searing from a heat glazing over her face, rooted in her chest. She doesn't know what to say, and neither does he, making the silence almost comforting. Suddenly, the brunette lurches forward, and presses a gentle kiss to Monty's upper lip, who's now a baffling red mess.

 The dropship flap rips open, and both Monty and Kanada whip around ready to face Clarke from above her, but it's Bellamy, his expression irritated. "Hate to interrupt, um, whatever, _nerdy_ thing is going on here but we gotta go, now, Kane, if you wanna find goggle boy."

 Kanada scowls at him, and pats Monty on the shoulder before sliding down the ladder. Monty can't seem to register her disappearance, as he's still a little fazed from a moment before. Bellamy notices this and smirks as he opens the flap for Kanada, tunneling out after her as he chuckles lowly. "What'd you do to the kid?" He can already assume, though.

 Kanada shrugs. "Kissed him," she states plainly, and rushes ahead of him to meet with Clarke. Bellamy's a little shaken by her straightforward honesty, but he expects nothing less from her. Before long, he's jogging to catch up with the group as well. He finds it curious, though, that Kanada would attach herself to someone of Monty's station and stature. The boy's timid nature meshes comfortably with Kanada's fiery attitude, he considers. Regardless, it's still fascinating. Soon, her careless actions will frighten Monty to the point of disconnection. Bellamy would love to see her blow up from that. The chaos would be _delicious._

 "How far is this river?" Kanada presses her question to Clarke, who sighs and shifts uncomfortably. This is the fourth question since they've left, and call it a gut feeling, but something tells her the brunette is not going to stop anytime soon. Clarke's irritation melts into a smooth sympathy; Kanada's uneasiness is entirely valid. Clarke imagines how she would have reacted if Wells, when she was still friends with him, was possibly murdered. She would have searched frantically for him, as well; but now, looking at him, _knowing_ what he did, she can't feel anything but apathy.

 "Close," Clarke replies, hiking up a hill and brushing past undergrowth.  Despite the fact Clarke is angered with Wells, she can imagine the grief she’d have if he was in Jasper’s position. Much like how she and Wells were friends since forever, so were Kanada and Jasper; but their friendship was also based on reliance and desperation, so she can imagine that they might be closer than her and Wells.

 Kanada's face has crease lines tracing deep in her eyebrows and sallow cheeks, laced with a headstrong persistence. "Okay," she says finally, her voice cracked and rugged with lack of use since her release from the Skybox. She figured Clarke was ready to string her up by her neck if she continued bothering her, so she kept her mouth tightly shut.

 Bellamy and Murphy catch up, the former slowing his gait next to Kanada as they trek over a few hundred yards of green growth. The trees scrape Kanada's skin, a couple twigs snagging on her bomber jacket. Bellamy reaches out to her, grasping her shoulder softly when she began to jolt forward to hike past the group. "Hey, hold up. What's the rush?" His tone lowers in volume and power when he notices the girl's fragility. "You don't survive a spear through the heart."

 She doesn't miss the way he starts waving his gun around as he speaks. She rolls her eyes, shoving her shoulder from the taller boy's grasp. He swiftly retracts his palm, her distaste and disconnection being firmly understood. He steps back a couple paces, eyeing the group as Wells saunters forward, but is reprimanded by Murphy almost immediately.

 "Put the gun away, Bellamy," he says.

 "Well, why don't you do something about it, huh?" John Murphy warns, and Kanada pushes between both of them.

 "Stop acting like children. Let's go," she snaps, trudging towards another long expanse of deep forest. The overwhelming smell of pine and nature flows through her nostrils, but it doesn't calm her. Her nerves are still running a mile a minute, and her heart seems to be beating at the same rapid speed. The only thought running through her mind is Jasper.

 Clarke nods her blonde head. "Kanada's right. Jasper screamed when they moved him. If the spear struck his heart, he'd have died instantly. It doesn't mean we have time to waste."

 Bellamy grabs her wrist daringly, "As soon as you take this wristband off, we can go."

 Kanada sighs. It's not worth it, she knows, but she can't help the boiling heat bursting through her veins. Whipping around, she marches towards Bellamy, snatching a handful of his shirt, and yanking him down to her 5'2" height. Bellamy's dark eyes are wide, but curious; they display a desire to push the limits. To push _her_ limits. "Listen, you selfish shit. My best friend might be _dead_ right now. You'll be next if you don't shut the hell up. If we find him and he's dead because you decided to delay our trip, I'll feed you your own balls, you got that?"

The boy's dark curls manage to trace slightly across her forehead, and his deep brown orbs search her face furiously. His pink tongue darts out to lick his lips, his thoughts racing rampant in his head. How should he approach this situation? However, just as he pries open his mouth to speak, another voice takes his own place.

 "Ooh, me next, Kanada. I've always been curious on how to—" Finn's scratchy tone erupts from behind them, but Clarke jumps to interrupt him.

 "Nope, we aren't having this conversation," the blonde says, but she can't help but smile a bit.

 Bellamy drags Kanada's attention back to him as he leans forward, taking her by surprise. She forces her head back, and Bellamy merely chuckles as his lips reach next to her ear. "... And here I thought you were going to kiss me like you did Monty and Jasper. You snatch up all the boys like that?"

 Kanada gasps, releasing Bellamy with a disgusted expression. "You're _revolting._ "

 She dashes into the underbrush, fuming. When the delinquents were dancing yesterday, what happened with Jasper was _entirely_ accidental. The curious thing was that Bellamy noticed enough to remember. He was just a creepy prick, though, so she didn't think much of it. She snaps twigs and sticks as she stomps through the endless forest, the echoes of the wood cracking bouncing across the trees.

 "Great job, Bellamy. What did you say to piss her off?" Finn asks, and the former shrugs nonchalantly. He fixes his shirt, readjusting the collar of his jacket. Finn shakes his head knowingly. "This is a shit rescue party. Split up, cover more ground. Bellamy, go with Kanada. Clarke's with me, and that means Wells, you're with Murphy."

 "Joy," the dark-skinned male whispers, eyeing Murphy warily.

 Finn takes note of this. "Stay close to Kanada and Bellamy."

 He and Clarke speed off in a different direction, leaving Murphy and Wells as Bellamy hurries to stay in time with Kanada.

 He treks beside the girl once he reaches her, but doesn't say much. The sounds emitting from the forest fills the silence between them, and Kanada looks up into the sky. Birds scatter across the expanse, their wings spread, representing freedom. They seem to dance in the clouds, and Kanada imagines how Jasper would react to seeing this. He'd giggle and make a joke, and Monty and Kanada would laugh softly, lacing their fingers together secretly. Nothing would need to be said. It was spoken without words.

 A flock of sparrow-like animals race as a group, dancing and spinning along the skyline. One of the birds has an uncomfortable crooked wing, and it sails awkwardly, until it rockets towards the earth, its wing causing its death. Kanada's eyes drop to the soil.

 Bellamy shifts beside her, and he cracks his fingers. Kanada inhales deeply, shooting her attention back to the sky almost completely hidden by trees now. "If the end of the world was near, what would you do?"

 Bellamy stiffens, and shrugs indifferently. "I don't know. What kind of question is that—?"

 "Forget it," Kanada snaps, stepping quickly forward to avoid confrontation. It was a stupid thing to ask. It just came over her seeing the sparrow dive violently into the ground. She bet that bird didn't know it was going to die; it was just living its life. Animals don't consider death like humans do, she supposes. Humans are selfish, conceited creatures. Animals just die, and don't overthink it or even consider it. Humans try to cheat death. How dumb is that?

 "I… I would probably try to watch a sunrise," Bellamy breathes out. Kanada is taken aback, but soon scoffs.

 "You can't choose _when_ the world ends," she says, almost offended. "Like if the world was going to end in five minutes from now—"

 "You never specified anything until—"

"Oh my God, just nevermind," Kanada barks, but it isn't venomous. In fact, she even smiles softly, and Bellamy laughs quietly; this time it isn't condescending, oddly enough. The two tread deeper into the woods, and they can spot Wells and Murphy nearby, as well as Clarke and Finn.

 "What would you do?" Bellamy asks.

 "If what?" Kanada questions, her mind blank.

"If the world was ending right now."

"Oh. I— I don't know, I think… I think it's a secret," Kanada replies softly, her palm reaching out and grazing a tree stump. Moss runs through her fingers, tickling her flesh. Bellamy shrugs, humming in thought as sticks crack underneath his boots.

 As the two come into a fork in the forest, Murphy and Wells meet up with them at the hill's end, combining both groups. Wells and Kanada head to the front, allowing Murphy and Bellamy to guard their backs, which wasn't exactly a smart idea. Kanada was aware of this, but she knows they've got too much to lose to kill them from behind. She hikes a bit farther up than Wells does, pushing past low-hanging branches. She occasionally pauses her pace to check on the three boys, moving branches for Wells to move ahead, but releases them so they hit the two delinquents behind him.

  "So, Chancellor," Bellamy pipes up, his tone laced with irritation as he aggressively shoves a branch away from his face. "How's pining after Clarke?"

 Wells grunts quietly, his eyes glued to the soil beneath them as he trudges forward. Kanada glances back at the curly haired boy, shooting him a glare and a shake of her head as a warning.

"I mean, c'mon," Bellamy continues, his eyes _glued_ to Kanada. They're both aware he's trying to push her buttons as well as Wells's. "Imagine being in love with a girl who thinks you're invisible."

 "At least she's thinking of me," Wells mutters, and he crushes a beetle with his foot, wiping the guts off on a nearby stump.

"Would it _kill_ you, Blake, to not be an asshole for three minutes?" Kanada deadpans, picking up a large stick, and pointing it loosely at him. She chucks it into the thick brush on the left. 

 "Give me that wristband now instead of later, and I'll give it a spin," He spits back. Normally, he would have jumped forward to snatch her arm or something of that nature, but he knows now that it doesn't intimidate her like it does others.

 "I'll take it off when I want, but not for you. For me," She replies, eyeing him suspiciously. Shrugging, she adds, "you're predictable, Bellamy, hate to break it to you."

 "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He argues, grabbing her shoulder to twist her around. The girl sighs, turning to continue heading into the woods.

 "Hey!" Bellamy shouts, "Get your ass back here, Kane!" He jogs ahead to get her attention, and Kanada whips around, fists clenched.

 "You wanna know what the _hell_ that's supposed to mean, Blake?" She challenges, mirroring her actions earlier by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him down to her height. "It _means_ you're a coward. It means that you're a selfish dick. I don't know what the hell you did to get down here, but I _do_ know you're older than eighteen and that sure as hell isn't your uniform, mister janitor. So you can keep playing big soldier to protect your sister, but when push comes to shove, we all know you're just going to protect yourself. Tell me, Blake. Am I wrong?"

 Her free hand lifts up his shirt, yanking the black gun from the waistband of his pants. Bellamy grunts, and Kanada smirks as she leans in slowly. Pulling the gun up to her face, she gently places her lips against the tip of the firearm, pointing it against the boy's own. The gun pries open his mouth slightly, and Kanada moves in, her lips next to his ear. " _Click._ " Bellamy flinches. "There's that kiss you wanted."

 Kanada shoves the black handgun deep in her bra, and drops Bellamy's t-shirt as she twists around to face the direction in which a plethora of cracking sticks came from. Before anyone could react, Clarke's blonde head peeked out from behind a large tree, followed by Finn.  

 "Hey, we have a lead," She says, eyebrows creased as she eyes Bellamy's fazed expression, as well as the shock on Wells's and Murphy's faces. She drawls off, "we found blood.. and _these._ "

 Clarke holds up a pair of black goggles, causing Kanada's legs to buckle involuntarily. She falls forward, gripping the goggles and pulling them from the blonde girl's grasp. She turns them over in her palm, an uncomfortable swelling in her heart and stomach making her uneasy.

"Jasper's goggles," she whispers. Kanada ties the strap around her right wrist, asking Clarke to tighten and finish it so she could have it attached without the goggles being loose. Kanada meets Clarke's gentle eyes with the wild ones of her own. "We have to find Jasper. _Now."_

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Finn leads the group to a stream, Kanada wis irritable and frantic. It is getting dark out, and they still haven't found Jasper. Kanada is trying to remain calm, but she can't help but worry that he's already dead. He wouldn't voluntarily take off his goggles, that's for damn sure.

 "Hey, how do we know this is the right way?" Murphy asks loudly.

 "We don't," Bellamy replies, watching his footing on the stones scattered next to the stream. "Spacewalker thinks he's a tracker."

"It's called cutting sign. Fourth-year earth skills. He's good," Wells adds.

 "You want to keep it down or should I paint a target on your backs?" Finn snarks, bending down to observe a broken twig within a bush, as well as a blood spot on a rock. Clarke meets the boy's eyes, and they hold contact for a few long seconds.

 "See? You're invisible," Bellamy whispers to Wells, and Kanada elbows him in the side, glaring at him. Bellamy grunts, and shoots her a nasty look as well. Before either could begin an argument, a distant moan erupts from the treeline, and Kanada's blood runs cold. Bellamy looks down at her, noticing her reaction. She appears to have seen a ghost.

 "Jasper," she whispers, mostly to herself. Before anyone could stop her, she bursts into a sprint towards the treeline, zigzagging her way through thick brush, ignoring the way her skin burned with cuts and scratches. Behind her, the group calls her name and rushes after her.

 "Now would be a good time to take out that gun," Clarke says, running towards Kanada's calls and Jasper's groans of pain.

"Can't," Bellamy replies, quickly pursuing. "Kane has it."

"Great!" Clarke remarks, concern on her face.

"I can't control her!"

"Would it kill you to try?"

"Last time I tried, she had my gun in my _mouth_ ," Bellamy argues.

 Clarke ignores him as she pushes past a branch, and her heart stops for a moment. Standing about ten feet in front of her is Kanada, her eyes locked on a giant tree in a clearing. "Jasper, oh my God," the blonde says, and Kanada stalks forward. The group follows, and Bellamy notices something unusual about the ground in front of Kanada. He rushes forward, and manages to launch himself towards her and grip her arm as she tumbles down into a trap. He's got both hands firm on her forearm, and Clarke is screaming at him to lift her up. He hesitates, just for a second, but it doesn't go unnoticed by Kanada.

 "What the _fuck?"_ She yells once she's out of the trap and fallen in Bellamy's lap. She scrambling to get up. "Why the hell didn't you pull me up as soon as possible? Were you seriously considering dropping me in there?"

 Bellamy steps closer to her, and she mirrors him. Before long, they are chest to chest, and he can feel the gun pressing against his pek. "What if I was?"

 "And here I thought you had a shred of humanity left in you," She replies, glaring at him. She spits on his boot, and Bellamy wraps his fist around her neck, just at the same time she whips out a metal knife and has it presses against his.

 "You thought wrong, firecracker," the curly-haired boy replies, tightening his grip. Kanada's blade presses further into the flesh of his neck, drawing a bit of blood. He winces.

"Bellamy! Kanada! Fucking stop! We've got to get Jasper down," Clarke shouts, slapping Bellamy's arm. He drops his hand, and Kanada inhales as she pulls back, too.

 "Yeah, you're right," Kanada sighs, but she passes Bellamy a look that says the fight is not over yet.

 "I'll climb up there and cut the vines," Finn says, and Kanada nods, swiftly following after him. Finn tells Murphy to come, too.

 "I'll hold him," Kanada informs him. The boy agrees and climbs up the back of the tree while Kanada scales the front, quickly making her way up to Jasper. She immediately kisses his forehead, pushing his dark hair back away from his sweating face. She can tell his breathing is ragged and uneven, and that worries her. Regardless, he's alive, and that's all that matters. "You're safe, Jasper, okay? I got you. You'll always be safe with me."

 "I'm about to cut them, are you ready?"  Finn asks.

 "Ready as I'll ever be," She replies, tucking her arm around Jasper's waist, avoiding the wound at all costs. She pulls his arm around her shoulders, and doesn't notice the commotion below them. "Okay, go!"

 "Firecracker!" Bellamy calls out desperately. She meets his eyes and narrows her own. "The gun! Give me the gun!"

 "I can't, I've got—"

 Give him to me," Murphy says, pulling Jasper from Kanada. She releases him warily, and gazes at Bellamy from above. She doesn't want to give it up.

 "JUMP!" Bellamy shouts. "If you don't wanna give me the gun, JUMP!"

 "I'll kill myself if I jump, dumbass!"

"Do you trust me?" He asks loudly.

 "Not at all!" She shouts back, but hurls herself off the tree regardless, landing straight in Bellamy's arms. She pulls out the black handgun just as the dark panther hurls itself at them, and she lands a bullet straight through its giant head. It collapses at their feet, and Kanada sinks into Bellamy's chest behind her, heaving. The blood made her sick.

Murphy and Finn successfully get Jasper down from the tree, and Kanada hurries to take Murphy's place, wrapping Jasper's weak arm around her shoulders again. She puts his body pressure mainly on herself, allowing Finn a break. Finally, she can breathe normally again. Jasper and Monty are both safe and sound with her, and she was going to do _everything_ in her power to protect them both. Bellamy walks beside her as he and Murphy carry the panther with them to camp. Bellamy and Kanada make eye contact, and for the first time in a while, she smiles genuinely. Her face is sweaty and tired and unbelievably unattractive right now due to those two factors, but it's alright. The smile is worth it. It takes him by surprise, as he'd never seen her face so peaceful. It quickly disappears, but Bellamy knows he'd like to see her smile again for him. If only in private, if only for a moment.

 

* * *

 

 

The six delinquents stumble into camp at dusk, and they are met with many others of the 100 waiting at the gate for them. Kanada and now Wells carry Jasper through the crowd towards the dropship, and Monty sighs at the sight of the three of them as he stands in front of the flap. Suddenly, a dark feeling overwhelms him.

 "Is he…" The boy begins, but Kanada shakes her head as she pushes open the dropship doorway. Monty grins.

Clarke hurries over. "I need boiled water and strips of cloth for bandage."

  Kanada and Wells carry him into the upper level of the dropship, placing him on a table in the center of the room. Clarke rushes inside, immediately preparing to observe the wound. Kanada informs her that she can't be here for that part, and she'll visit later. She pulls Monty with her before he gets too comfortable, and strolls in the direction of the woods, towards where she was with Charlotte this morning.

"Where are we going?" He asks, and she can't help but laugh softly at the nerve in his voice. "Shouldn't we be with Jasper?"

 Kanada shrugs as she collapses against a tree, and she nods in front of her, gesturing for Monty to take a seat. "I'm exhausted, and I trust Clarke. We'll visit once she's cleaned him up and he's stable."

 Monty silently agrees, and sits across from her. Kanada glances to the right, checking to see if anyone was nearby. Once she is satisfied with her answer, she readjusts herself so she's sitting on her thighs. "How have things been at the camp?"

 "Meh. Clarke's got me trying to contact the Ark, so I haven't been out much," Monty replies, shrugging. He misses the way Kanada slowly prowls closer to him, and doesn't catch it until she's practically perching on his lap. He opens his mouth to speak, but Kanada gently places a finger against his lips.

 "Can I kiss you?" She whispers, and Monty frantically nods, causing her to giggle quietly. Kanada slowly leans in, their lips almost grazing. She's teasing him, and Monty _hates_ when she does that. Desperately, the dark-haired boy rushes in, connecting their lips, and he's shaking. They fit like puzzle pieces, and Kanada melts into his chest, her hands finding the tips of his hair. Finally giving in entirely, Monty places his hands on her hips, and moves them to her waist.

 Their lips mold together, slowly, softly, but _surely._ He's nervous, she knows. Monty has never been one to take control of anything, and he's more of a follower than a leader, but it's okay. However, Monty grips her waist hard, and manages to flip them both over until he's above her, kissing her rough but gently at the same time. Her arms snake around the back of his neck, and she yanks him down, pushing her lips against his again. Kanada tugs on his hair, and he gasps. She takes this chance to intertwine their tongues, and a _godly_ sound rips from the back of Monty's throat.

  Just as he presses his hips down on hers, a voice calls out for her, causing the two of them to fall apart and strain their ears, chests heaving. Monty is still arched over her, and doesn't change until a pair of chocolate brown eyes land on their position. The stocky boy, Bellamy, doesn't say anything, but he pulls his lower lip into his mouth, averting his eyes to the ground. "Clarke was looking for you."

 "Ah, okay," Kanada says, her voice cracked from kissing Monty. Bellamy almost flinches; he recognizes that sound. It's all too familiar. He spins on his heel as Kanada stands, and rushes to walk beside him towards the dropship. Suddenly, Bellamy heads in a separate direction, and she strolls into the dropship.

 "Hey," Clarke says once Kanada's made it to the second floor. "Where's Bellamy and Monty?"

 "Here," Monty says, and he circles the table to the other side.

 "Bellamy had something to do, I guess," Kanada shrugs. "No rest for the wicked, huh?"

 "Oh. Yeah, I suppose. He was supposed to be here," Clarke mutters. "Well, anyway. Jasper's stable, so you can visit. I'm going to go get dinner."

 Both Kanada and Monty nod, and Finn follows after Clarke. Before he's gone, though, Kanada pipes up.

 "Hey, spacewalker, can I borrow you tomorrow morning?"

 Finn turns. "Uh, yeah. What for?"

"Call it a project."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Kanada finishes, and she focuses on Jasper while Finn leaves. She runs her fingers through his hair, and avoids witnessing the wound at whatever cost. He's pale and sickly. "I'm going to sleep in here tonight."

 "Me too," Monty agrees. He floats over to the section of the level where he was working diligently earlier. He plops down, and begins working again.

 "Do you ever take a break?" Kanada asks.

 "Do you?"

"Guess not."

"Me neither."

 Something, call it a hunch or intuition, tells Kanada she's not going to get a break for a long, long time.

 

 

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 


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